Fairytale of Fenchurch East
by FabullusVeranius
Summary: Christmas 1983, and Gene turns to Chris for advice on love.  Meanwhile, Shaz has a question of her own for Alex.  Can the magic of Christmas help their wishes come true? Gene/Alex, Chris/Shaz.


**Set post series 2, but no angst, no Keats, just pure, Christmassy fluff. The title is shamelessly stolen from The Pogues' hit 'Fairytale of New York'. We hope you enjoy it - any reviews would be greatly appreciated :)**

It was Christmas Eve, and Chris, Ray, Shaz and Alex were clustered around the windows of CID watching the snowflakes swirling outside. Behind them, the office was festooned with paper chains, the result of an hour's hard work by Chris and Shaz, and the Christmas tree, hauled through the streets by Ray and laden with decorations by a slightly overenthusiastic Alex, stood resplendent in the corner. Even the Guv had consented to having his office door bedecked with tinsel. The only thing left to do was clear away the evidence of the huge numbers of mince pies that had been consumed that afternoon, before heading down to Luigi's for a Christmas Eve drink.

"Ladies and gentlemen, you're free to go." The Guv appeared behind them, causing a minor avalanche of paperwork as everyone scrambled to grab coats and scarves and get out of the door before he changed his mind. "Except you, Chris. A word."

Chris paused with one arm inside his jacket. "Guv?"

"Er...in my office?"

Looking over at him in surprise, her scarf half-wound around her neck, DI Drake frowned. "Aren't you coming to Luigi's, Guv?" she asked, stooping to pick up her handbag from her chair.

The Guv shook his head impatiently. "You lot go ahead. Chris and I'll see you there."

With a shrug and a smile, DI Drake disappeared through the door, Ray and Shaz hot on her heels, leaving Chris to follow the Guv into his office in some trepidation. He racked his brains for something he'd done that would justify keeping him behind on Christmas Eve of all days, but apart from a couple of slightly sketchy arrest forms and one or two near accidents with some unusually aggressive tinsel, nothing sprang to mind.

After staring at Chris for several seconds with something akin to indecision, during which time Chris shuffled his feet and looked at the floor and generally felt as if he were back at school and in trouble for not sharing the glitter, the Guv beckoned him in and motioned for him to close the door. "What do you think Christmas is all about, Chris?"

"Christmas?" Chris frowned, mystified. "Season of goodwill and all that, I suppose," he tried, shrugging. "Not much to it really, is there?"

"Come on, Chris," said the Guv in the voice he usually reserved for moments when Chris was being spectacularly stupid. "Give me _something_."

"Well..." Chris hesitated. "I suppose...lots of things. Carol singers. Snowmen. Baby Jesus. Turkey. Presents."

The Guv shook his head impatiently, aiming a dart at the battered old board on the wall. With no more than a flick of the wrist, he hit the bullseye. "Love, Christopher. Love. That's what Christmas is all about." He paused. "Apparently."

"Oh." There was a short pause. Slightly disconcerted, Chris tried to remember the last time he'd heard Gene Hunt talk about love. He came up with a resounding _never_.

"So, tell me, Chris." The Guv abandoned his darts and leaned against the edge of his desk, arms folded. "You know all about love, right?"

Chris shrugged, trying to appear offhand. "Not sure I know that much about it, Guv, or I wouldn't be having Christmas dinner at my sister's tomorrow."

"But you've..." The Guv cleared his throat awkwardly, not quite meeting Chris's eye. "You've _been, _y'know...in love though, haven't you?"

"Well...yeah."

"So...oh, sod it, I don't believe I'm having this conversation." He ran a hand down his face in frustration. "And with you, of all people."

Chris frowned. "You could have asked Ray," he suggested.

"Like hell I'm going to ask Ray," said the Guv somewhat violently.

"Oh, right," said Chris, trying to pretend that he wasn't still completely nonplussed. "So, er...what was it you wanted to...?"

For a moment, there was silence. The Guv seemed to be fighting some kind of internal battle, and Chris knew better than to ask again. Finally, he slammed his hand down on the desk. "Love, Chris. How do you know?"

"How do you know what?"

The Guv sighed heavily, drumming his fingers on his desk. "Bloody hell, it's like trying to have a coherent conversation with a mince pie. How do you _know_...well, y'know, that...that you're _in_ _love_?"

"Oh." Slightly staggered by the enormity of the question, Chris hesitated. "Well, you...you just know, don't you?"

"Do you think I enjoy making a complete prat of myself, Christopher? I _don't _know. That's why I'm standing here having this god-awful nancy conversation with you."

"Guv, are we...are we talking about DI Drake?" asked Chris.

"No, we're talking about bloody Lady Di," snapped the Guv. "Of course we're talking about DI Drake."

"And you mean...you don't know if you love her?"

"Hallelujah! Chris, I do believe we've just discovered that brain cell you've always claimed to have." He pushed a glass of whisky into Chris's hand and looked at him expectantly. "Well, go on then. Tell me about love."

"Well..." Chris felt slightly out of his depth. From his experience, love wasn't something you could explain, or assess, or pin down. Love just _was_. And, as far as he could tell, you didn't go out with a girl for as long as the Guv and DI Drake had been dating if you didn't think she was pretty special. The downside, he'd discovered, was that once you found a girl you thought that about, you kept on thinking it, even when you weren't supposed to anymore. Eyeing the Guv somewhat nervously, he attempted to find the words to explain something he didn't fully understand himself. "Well, love's when...every time she walks into the room, it's like..." He paused, struggling to express his thoughts properly. "It's like the sun's come out. Like everything's all right, just because she's there. Like nothing can touch you, because she's like...I don't know, a lucky charm or something. As soon as you see her, the world's a better place."

"Blimey." The Guv was staring at him as if this was a complete revelation. "And you used to think all of that about Shaz every time she walked into the room, did you?"

Chris smiled slightly. "Still do."

"Oh." It was the Guv's turn to look blank. "Er...d'you –"

"So do you, Guv?" Chris interrupted hastily. This conversation was quite awkward enough already without adding any of his own grievances to the mix.

"Do I what?"

"Do you think that? Whenever you see her, I mean."

"I..." The Guv turned away from him, depositing his glass on the desk with far more performance than was strictly necessary. "I'm not really into all this sunshine and lucky charm bollocks. But...well, not in as many words, but I...well, yeah, if you want to put it like that."

"And you think she's beautiful –"

"Of course I bloody do," he growled.

"Yeah, but not just on the outside, I mean. Would you still love her even if she wasn't beautiful? Would you still want to kiss her, even if she was in a bad mood, or she hadn't washed her hair, or she had a horrible cold?"

The Guv wrinkled his nose. "I...I don't know. You do ask some bloody stupid questions, Chris."

"It's important, Guv." Chris pressed. "Shaz used to say it doesn't matter how beautiful you think someone is on the outside, if you don't know that you'd love them no matter what they looked like, it doesn't mean anything."

"Sounds like exactly the kind of drivel Shaz would come out with," said the Guv in mild disgust. "What am I supposed to do, imagine her covered in warts or something?"

"You could try." Chris watched in amusement as the Guv's expression contorted with the effort of picturing DI Drake's face encrusted with some kind of unpleasant skin disease. After a few moments his face resumed its normal contours, marred only by a lingering look of slight revulsion.

"What else?" he demanded, gazing at Chris as if he'd suddenly seen him in a new light. Chris couldn't place the look, but it at once unsettled and pleased him. It was almost..._admiration_.

"Well..." He swirled the amber liquid around in his glass. "Then there's the friendship thing. She's got to be your friend, as well as your girlfriend. Otherwise, what's the point?"

"My friend?" The Guv frowned. "Strikes me you've got your wires crossed, Chris. Your friends are the ones you go to the match with, your girlfriend's the one you take out to dinner. She doesn't have to be my friend _as well _as my girlfriend."

"Yeah, she does," said Chris firmly. "If you fancy her, and that's all there is to it, you don't love her. She's got to be a friend first, and your girlfriend second. That's why me and Shaz are still mates even though we split up – because we were always friends first and the rest just kind of fitted around it."

"I don't know if we're _friends. _I've never thought about it."

"That's easy." Chris shrugged. "Do you talk about stuff? Do you tell her things you wouldn't tell anyone else? Do you like spending time with her even when you're not...y'know, doing other stuff?"

The Guv considered, a frown etched onto his forehead. "She annoys the hell out of me sometimes."

"That's all right, you're not meant to agree about _everything_. But...generally?"

He hesitated and for a second, Chris had the strangest sensation that just for this moment, they were equals, or even more strange, that he had the upper hand. "Well, yeah, I suppose. If that's what being friends is, then I suppose we are, yeah. Bloody hell, Chris, this is the most_ ridiculous _conversation I've ever had in my life."

"Sorry, Guv. D'you reckon you know now, though? If you love her, I mean?"

"I...yeah, I think so. I think I _know_, I mean. I think I already knew, I just needed..." He trailed off. Chris hesitated just inside the door, feeling slightly awkward. He sensed that he'd just been shown a side of Gene Hunt that very few people had ever seen, and he wasn't sure how to react. Then the man in question drained his glass and slung his coat over his shoulder, and all at once Chris knew that the Guv was back, and their conversation a thing of the past. "Breathe one word of this to anyone," he told him warningly, "and I mean Ray, Shaz, _anyone_, and your life won't be worth living. That clear?"

"Crystal, Guv." Chris paused for a second, his hand on the door. "You...you won't mention it to Shaz either, will you? I mean, what I said about..."

"My lips are sealed." Flipping the light off, he clapped Chris on the back and propelled him through the door. "Look, you're a useless div with half a brain, Chris, but you've made me see things clearer and for that I'm grateful." He gave him a rare smile. "In fact, since it's Christmas Eve, I'll buy you a drink. What do you say?"

* * *

Luigi's glowed with the muted colours of two hundred fairy lights. They were strung around the walls, twined with holly, with ivy, and as Alex sat at her favourite table, cast in the shadow of a twinkling Christmas tree and waiting for Gene to arrive, she felt perfectly content. The lingering memories of a faceless girl were fading, worn slowly away like rocks by the sea, but somehow it didn't seem important anymore. The echoes of another life had become distant dreams, no more real than a fairytale, a ghost story. This, right here, sitting in Luigi's with a glass of mulled wine in her hand, this was what was real. This was home.

"Ma'am?" Shaz appeared at her side. "Mind if I sit here?"

Alex smiled at her, noted the way she held her body, tense and anxious. "Not at all, Shaz. What's up?"

There was a beat of hesitation, of doubt, in which Noddy Holder screamed that it was Christmas and a raucous cheer went up from the half-cut members of CID. Shaz bit her lip, took a deep breath, and Alex tried to ignore the curl of apprehension in her stomach.

"Can I ask you something, Ma'am? Something, you know, personal?"

Alex gave her a quizzical look. "Of course."

Shaz hesitated again, twirling the stem of her wineglass nervously between her fingers. "Well, it's about relationships really. I mean, I know you're experienced...you're with the Guv now, and before that there was that Thatcherite bloke, and you've been married, of course-"

Alex tried not to cringe. "All right, let's not list all my questionable sexual conquests."

Shaz had the good grace to blush, offering Alex an apologetic smile. "Sorry. I just meant you've-"

"Been around the block a bit?" At Shaz's look of mortification, she grinned. "Joking, Shaz. What did you want to ask me?"

Shaz turned wide, helpless eyes on her, eyes that glittered gold in the light. "How do you know when you're in love?"

Alex raised her eyebrows and tried to hide a smile. Despite Shaz's careful wording, she had a sneaking suspicion to whom she was referring, and the thought warmed her. They deserved each other, deserved a bit of happiness and security after the tumultuous events of the past year.

"You know what it's like to be in love," she answered gently. "You don't need to ask me. Anyway, that Thatcherite tosser was hardly love. A good shag, but that's as far as it was ever going to go." She suddenly noticed Shaz's rather scandalised expression and smiled. "He adores you, you know."

Shaz sighed. "I know. But everything that happened...you getting shot, the Guv disappearing, it just didn't feel right anymore. Sometimes though I look at him and I realise how much I miss him." She lifted her gaze to Alex again. "Sounds pathetic, doesn't it?"

Alex laughed, reaching over to squeeze Shaz's arm. "Not at all. I think it's easy when you're young to expect your life to be like a fairytale...that a handsome prince will come galloping along on his white steed and whisk you off into the sunset, but you know as well as I do that real life isn't like that." She paused, and the corner of her mouth quirked up into a smile. "I don't think there's anyone who could honestly call Gene Hunt a prince."

Shaz smiled back, and for a moment her face shone, cast briefly in the golden glow of flickering fairy-lights, and Alex was struck by how young she was. Her life was still spread before her, a blank page of possibilities and opportunities, and though Alex was scarcely ten years her senior, she felt so much older, so much more lived-in. She felt a sudden rush of fierce affection for the woman beside her.

"But you drive each other mad. No offence or anything, Ma'am, but you're always arguing. How can it work if you're fighting all the time?" She looked at Alex from the corner of her eye, and a flicker of mischief crossed her face. "Or is the Guv secretly really romantic?"

"One might almost think you're fishing for gossip, PC Granger," Alex teased, hiding her smile behind her wine glass. Shaz looked guilty for a moment and Alex relented, setting her glass back on the table and sighing. "Gene Hunt is not an easy man to love. He's arrogant, misogynistic, prejudiced, hypocritical-" She ticked them off on her fingers. "But at home, when it's just us and the telly and a takeaway, he's different. _We're _different. Work is work."

Shaz was frowning. "So at home, you don't argue? Blimey, Ma'am, that's a turn up for the books."

Alex laughed. "We still argue, like everyone does. It doesn't change the fact that I love him. And I think the fact that we're having this conversation shows that you still care about Chris."

"I dunno..." Shaz trailed off. "How do you _know? _Know for sure, I mean?"

Alex thought for a moment. Her relationship with Gene was stormy, passionate, intense and incredible, and he could steal her breath and melt her heart with a single look. But that was lust, desire, and that didn't always equal love. How could she possibly define their relationship, her emotions? She sensed that her answer was important to Shaz and so she chose her words carefully, watching her friend's expression closely as she spoke.

"I don't know what you're expecting me to say, Shaz. I could tell you that it's the way he never stops surprising me, or the way his kisses can mean a thousand different things, or the way I only ever feel safe when I'm in his arms. I could tell you that it's the way his toothbrush leans against mine in the mug, or the way he can hold my hand and wipe away all my worries, but in the end, I don't think it has to be any of those things. I think it's just the knowledge that you would do anything for that person, tell them anything, and protect them at all costs because you can't imagine life without them."

Shaz looked at her, and there was something in her eyes that made Alex feel self-conscious, embarrassed for baring her soul. She took another sip of her wine but Shaz continued to watch her, a strange, wonderful, awestruck expression on her face. "You really love him, Ma'am, don't you?"

"Yes," she answered simply, honestly. "I really do." It still warmed her soul to know that of all the people in the world, Gene had chosen _her _to confide in, _her _to love and hold and trust above all others. She smiled. "And can you really imagine spending your life with anyone other than Chris?"

Shaz glanced away, cheeks pink. "No," she replied finally.

"Then I think you've got your answer."

For a moment, Shaz said nothing. Then, slowly, a smile broke across her face, bright as the sunrise and warm with hope, and Alex felt a shiver run up her spine. They would be all right. They would be fine.

She leaned forward across the table and took Shaz's hands in hers, fervent suddenly, alive with belief. "If you've got the chance for happiness, Shaz, don't hesitate. You never know when it's all going to end." She had the strangest sensation creeping up her spine, a shiver of consciousness, a splinter of knowledge. "Just grab it with both hands and hold on tight."

"Sounds painful, Bolly." And suddenly Gene was there, arms folded, at her shoulder, and the sight of him filled her with such fierce, all-consuming happiness that she could hardly bear to touch him. Chris hovered at his side, and she noticed him give Shaz a hopeful smile.

She turned to Gene. "Come on, let's get a drink."

She guided him over to the bar, looking back over her shoulder to wink at Shaz. Shaz smiled. Alex smiled back.

_Oh yes_, she thought. _They were going to be just fine._

* * *

By ten o'clock, Luigi's was packed. Those few with families had sloped off an hour ago, retreating to their cosy homes and twinkling trees and stockings draped over the mantle, but the majority had remained, becoming steadily more inebriated as the night wore on. It was Gene who stood out, sitting quietly beside her with a pint in one hand, his whole stance tense and unsettled as though awaiting some terrible fate.

Eventually she gave in, sliding one hand over his knee and leaning in to speak in his ear, struggling to make herself heard over the riotous strains of Poirot's drunken singing.

"What's the matter?"

He turned to look at her and his eyes glittered, Luigi's fairy lights glinting in the blue of his irises. Even now, months on, he still had the ability to take her breath away with a single burning glance. "Nothing. Just don't want to be here." He shifted a little so he was facing her, and his hand crept under the table to take hers where it still rested on his leg. It warmed her to know that he needed her, that out of this room full of people who hung on his every word, she was the one he wanted at the end of the day. "I don't want to spend Christmas Eve in the company of my half-cut, half-witted team. " He paused, and his eyes flickered briefly across to her. When he spoke, his voice was gruff. "Want to spend it with you."

She smiled. She wanted to wrap her arms around him, to tell him that it was good to say these things, to tell her how he was feeling, wanted to show him how much it meant to her when these shy glimmers of affection shone through, warming her from the soul out. He was so private, so fiercely protective of her and their relationship, and sometimes she wished he'd understand that a show of emotion wasn't equal to a show of weakness. She settled for squeezing his hand.

"You've got me."

He frowned petulantly. "Not to myself."

She watched him for a moment, trying not to smile. It still baffled her how he could switch from the Manc Lion, purger of London's scum and widely feared Guv, to a lost little boy in the blink of an eye. "Well then," she said with a dramatic sigh, getting to her feet and holding out her hand to him. "I suppose you'd better whisk me away upstairs."

For a heartbeat, his face broke out into a wide, dazzling smile, one that was quickly shuttered but which curled fondly into her memory. "Lead on, Lady Bolls."

They weaved through the other customers, the majority of them CID and the majority of them steaming drunk, and they were nearly at the door when Ray appeared, a pint in one hand and a sprig of mistletoe in the other.

"Come on, Guv!" he cheered, waggling the mistletoe over their heads. "Give her a kiss!"

Alex looked at Gene from the corner of her eye. She didn't think he'd ever kissed her in public and certainly not in front of the team, and predictably he was scowling, embarrassed and irritated.

"Sod off, Carling."

"What's the matter, Guv?" Ray was clearly too far gone to realise Gene was serious, and he advanced upon them, making exaggerated kissing noises while Alex tried not to laugh. "If you don't want to, I wouldn't mind giving her a smacker..."

"You can keep your filthy paws off her," Gene retorted, half-serious, and Alex made a quick decision. Either they could get this over with and escape upstairs relatively unscathed, or Gene could carry on bickering with an increasingly inebriated Ray, something which would probably end in a shouting match and drunken fisticuffs. She turned to Gene and slid her arms around his neck, ignoring the way he tensed against her.

"Ashamed of me, Guv?" she said lightly, teasingly, moving her head so that her breath tickled his ear. "Do I have to take Ray up on his offer?"

His hands found her waist, squeezing gently, possessively. "Never, Bolly." His voice rumbled in his chest, a growl of protectiveness, of envy, and she smiled at him, cocked her head.

"Hurry up then, I've got a handsome bloke waiting for me and I want to get him into bed within the next half hour."

He grinned, but she saw the way his eyes flickered quickly over to the others to make sure they hadn't heard. She found it endearing, the way he'd boast until the cows came home about his sexual prowess yet blush at any public display of affection, and she felt a sudden rush of love for him in that moment, fierce and overwhelming. "Better get on with it then. Wouldn't want to keep him waiting."

He leaned in and she met him halfway, her eyes open until she was sure his had closed, pressing her body lightly against his and tangling her fingers into the hair at the back of his neck. The cat-calls and wolf-whistles of CID seemed to spur him on and she followed his lead, knew unequivocally that he was possessing her, marking her as his own. She matched him kiss for kiss, touch for touch, hands sliding over the warm plains of his shoulders and down the slope of his chest. His curved down to her bottom, across to her hips, fingers slipping just under the hem of her blouse to find the silk of her skin. When he let her go, she was breathless.

"Good enough for you, Raymondo?" Gene laced his fingers through hers in a gesture of public intimacy that made her shiver. He was breathing heavily. "Next time you twats want a bit of action, go and read a porno magazine."

He pulled her out of the door behind him and she followed without protest, still laughing as he dragged her up the stairs and into her flat. The moment they were alone he backed her against the wall, body flush against hers, hands exploring under her clothes, mouth hot, lips soft.

"Bloody hell, Bolly," he said as he finally pulled away, moving back just far enough to look at her. "Right show you put on downstairs. Thought you were going to go the whole hog and shag me on the table for a moment."

She raised an eyebrow. "I was just playing along with your alpha male act."

"What are you talking about, woman?" he grumped, bending his head to kiss her neck, but she squirmed away, grinned.

"Oh no, Mr Hunt, you're not getting off that lightly!" His cheeks were the tiniest bit pink and she stroked them, softening against him, voice dropping to a confidential murmur. "I liked it really."

"Bet you did, you filthy tart." His response was offhand, cavalier, but the mood had shifted again and he was quieter, his hands sliding beneath her blouse to rest on the warm skin of her hips. "Love this spot." His thumb traced the cradle of one hip and she frowned at him, tried to get him to meet her eye.

"Gene? _Gene_." He eventually looked up at her. "What's the matter? You've been funny all night."

"Nothing." He hesitated. "I just..._God_, I'm shit at this." She waited, didn't push him. Instead, she wrapped her arms tightly around him and let him bury his face briefly in her neck, content to give him the comfort of her body when her words were not enough. After a pause, he started again. "Alex, you're...Christ, you're incredible. I just...it's Christmas, isn't it? And Christmas is all about this sort of romantic bollocks and well, I want you to know..." he trailed off and looked at her, deadly serious now. "I..."

She didn't let him go any further. She put a hand gently over his mouth and blinked away the tears that were clouding her eyes, letting out a tiny, shaky little laugh that quivered like a leaf.

"Bolls?" He spoke against her hand, kissed her palm. He was looking at her as if she'd gone mad.

"Don't say it." She swallowed hard, gave him a watery smile. He was utterly bewildered.

"I thought birds liked it when blokes told them they loved them."

She laughed properly this time, leaning in to press a feather-light kiss against his mouth. "You wonderful, amazing, _incredible _man. I never needed to hear you say it. I know you love me." He stared at her, still nonplussed. "You telling me...it'd be lovely, but it's not important, not to me." She stroked her thumb over his cheek. There was something in his eyes, awe maybe, wonder, as if he'd walked in a condemned man and she'd just washed him clean.

He didn't answer her, just swung her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom, laid her on the bed as reverently as if she was a piece of glass, a fragile shard of time. Then he worshipped her, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, and it was in his kisses, which blazed fiercer than an inferno yet whispered softer than a butterfly, that she knew wholly, unequivocally, inarguably, that she was loved.

* * *

In Luigi's, the festivities were still in full swing, the mulled wine flowing freely and the fairy lights twinkling like two hundred tiny stars. Shaz could barely hear herself think over the music, singing and laughing, but for once she was glad of it. She'd been thinking too much lately, dreaming about things she knew she should have forgotten. Perhaps a bit of uninhibited celebration was just what she needed. The Guv and DI Drake had made their exit over an hour ago, and Ray was closeted in a corner with a young woman whose obvious assets made up for her lack of conversational ability. Only Chris remained at the bar with Shaz, his gaze fixed somewhat dreamily on the enormous, spangled Christmas tree behind her head.

Suddenly noticing her empty glass, he glanced over at her. "Fancy another one, Shaz?"

She smiled ruefully and pushed her glass away, not wanting to overdo it. "I think I'm going to head home, actually." She wanted, desperately wanted, to stay where she was. More than anything, she wanted to talk to him, tell him what she'd decided, because then, even if nothing came of it, at least she'd have _tried_. But if he threw it all back in her face, would she be able to cope with the knowledge that she'd lost her chance of happiness, the one chance DI Drake had been so eager that she should seize? Maybe it would be better to wait. The last thing she wanted was to put herself out on the line and have her heart stamped all over right here, right now, on Christmas Eve, when everyone was so happy.

"I'll walk you home," Chris offered, setting down his glass and giving her a look that, in the glow of the candles, or maybe it was just her wishful thinking, seemed almost hopeful. She heard DI Drake's words in her head, for the hundredth time that evening. _He adores you, you know. _She knew it was true, at least, on some level. But what if things had changed? What if, now, after all this time, Chris was happy with things as they were, happy with their comfortable, familiar, no strings attached friendship? She didn't want to ruin anything. But if she didn't try, if she didn't bite the bullet and do it soon, would she run the risk of losing him all over again?

Realising that he was watching her expectantly, waiting for her to say something, she made an effort to smile and stood up, reaching for her coat. "Thanks. But it's a bit out of your way."

"No, it's not." He shrugged on his jacket and got to his feet. "Not really."

She knew it was. But she smiled anyway and followed him out of Luigi's, glad of her gloves and scarf in the crisp, cold night air. The snow crunched underfoot, and their breath misted in front of them as they wandered up the road beneath a sky pinpricked with a thousand tiny, bright stars.

Drifting to a halt in the glow of a streetlamp, Shaz looked up at the velvety sky and smiled, drinking in the sight. "When I was little, my mum used to tell me that if I made a wish on Christmas Eve on the brightest star I could see, it'd come true."

"So did mine." Chris turned to smile at her, hands deep in his pockets. "Fancy giving it a go?"

"What would it be?" she found herself asking suddenly. "Your wish?"

He looked at her sideways. "Won't come true if I tell you, will it? First rule of Christmas wishes, that is." He held her gaze for a moment, and suddenly she had the strangest sensation that he could see right inside her, that her hopes, her dreams, her desires were laid bare for him to inspect, to share in or to discard. Then a firework exploded with a crack behind them, its fiery trail shooting across the sky, and the moment passed. They carried on walking.

At her front door, they stopped. Shaz turned the key in the lock, her fingers trembling as something inexplicable told her that it had to be _now, _now while the snow was falling and the stars were shining and the world was bright with the magic of Christmas. She turned to Chris and saw the strangest expression on his face, and for the first time in as long as she'd known him she had no idea what he was thinking.

"D'you want to come in?"

He hesitated, gestured down the street. "I should..." But the sentence died in his throat and she felt something shift almost imperceptibly between them, as if, for a moment, the world had tilted on its axis and anything was possible.

"Just for a few minutes?"

There was a moment's pause and then he gave her a tiny nod, an acknowledgement that was so much more than that. He followed her inside and she closed her eyes briefly, hoping that she wasn't about to make a horrible mistake. In the sitting room, she switched on the lamp, and its soft glow illuminated the Christmas tree laden with baubles, the strings of cards hanging from the mantelpiece, the golden angel above the fireplace. It was like a festive grotto, a sparkling cave of wonders, of magic.

"Chris, I –"

"Ssh." Putting one finger to his lips, he crossed to the window, pulling back the curtain. Outside in the street, children were singing, their flute-like voices rising into the night. _Away in a Manger_. Shaz smiled and joined Chris at the window, slipping her cold hand into his. For an infinitesimal moment he stayed perfectly still, gazing out at the snow, and then he dropped his gaze to their hands and back up to her, the unreadable expression back in his eyes. She bit her lip, meeting his gaze.

"Can I talk to you?"

Finally, he found his voice. "Course you can. Shaz –"

"Not now." She put one finger on his lips, feeling her heart skip a beat as his eyes drifted involuntarily shut, just for a second. "I've been thinking...about things," she began hesitantly, clasping her hands together to stop them from shaking. "Because sometimes I think...sometimes I think it's _right_, the way everything is at the moment. And then I stop and think and I don't _understand_. Because we were so...we were so _good_. And now it's like...like we've forgotten how good it was. And I don't know why, but it drives me _mad_, because..."

She could tell that he was waiting for her to go on, but her throat was too choked and her heart too full to speak another word. There was a lengthy, loaded silence, and then he spoke again, his voice almost a whisper. "Because...what?"

"Because..." She took a deep, shaky breath, feeling the words free themselves from their chains at the same moment as his other hand found hers. "Because I _love_ you, Chris." She lifted her eyes to his again, tears trembling on her lashes. "I do. I really do. And I think...I think you might still love me too, even if...even if you don't _know_ you do."

There was a heartbeat's pause, in which a thousand unsaid things flashed between them like so many shooting stars, and everything seemed to come to a standstill, as if the world were holding its breath. Then, very slowly, he smiled.

"Shaz, I _do_ know. I've always known, it's always been like that. It's always been _you._ I just thought...I didn't know _you_..."

She nodded, smiled through the tears which she knew were irrational but she couldn't help. "I _do_. I just...didn't know I did." She reached up with one hand, touched his cheek, found it wet. "So..."

He took her hand in his again, lifted it to his mouth, kissed it. "So...d'you still want to hear my Christmas wish?"

"But it won't come true," she said quietly, her voice barely a whisper, the feel of his lips on her skin making her spine tingle. "If you tell me what it is, it won't come true."

He smiled, squeezed her hand, tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "It just has."

On the other side of the window children's voices rose, and the opening bars of _The Holly and the Ivy_ drifted into the room as the fairy-lights twinkled and the snow swirled down outside. And Shaz, standing on tiptoes, kissed the man she loved as the clock chimed twelve and Christmas Eve turned slowly into Christmas Day.

* * *

And so it came to pass that on Christmas Day 1983, while London slept beneath a blanket of snow and fairy-lights twinkled softly in the windows of houses, two women found happiness in the hearts of two flawed, imperfect, wonderful men. And high above, unseen and unnoticed, a shooting star blazed across the dark night sky, and long-held Christmas wishes quietly came true.


End file.
